by Elle Cardy
All Aurelius wanted was to escape everyone and everything. If that meant betraying someone to get what he wanted, then Jasmine didn’t doubt he would do it. He’d betrayed her once before. It seemed likely he’d do it again. At least she knew where she stood with the kid.
He flung up his arms. “I have no reason to betray you.” He grinned. “Best not to give me a reason.”
That was a bold joke given where they were and how reliant he was on her to get him through the wielder-unfriendly town. Jasmine decided to let it pass. The kid had a right to be nervous.
There was nothing more she could do there. Her trip into town had been fruitless. She was no closer to discovering the source of Finn’s attack, and no better equipped to protect him. Eager to leave the cramped room, she decided it was time to return to her ship. She thanked Gley for her help and took her leave. The girl didn’t attempt to stop her, neither did she follow.
Jasmine crawled out of Gley’s hidden den, grateful for the fresh air. Though the place was well hidden, she was certain she’d be able to find it again. When Aurelius squeezed out into the gap between the buildings, Jasmine replaced the wooden board that hid the entrance. Aurelius led the way.
Jasmine stepped out into the moonlit street. Power filled the air. Aurelius fell to his knees. Two men towered over him, one holding an open collar. The power wrapped around Jasmine like a thick blanket weighed down by boulders. She didn’t have enough strength to shake it off or fight back. Before she knew it, a collar snapped around her neck, and someone else’s magic surged through her system, driving her to her knees.
You will obey, the collar demanded.
Jasmine gasped at an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
A man in white robes came into view. The same stern man they’d attempted to follow. “Bring them,” was all he said.
Someone pulled a leash attached to Jasmine’s collar. A man with a short forehead and large arms. “Get to your feet and follow,” he said. “Don’t give no trouble.”
Unable to do anything else, she staggered to her feet. She needed to fight back. She needed to give them a world of trouble. Most of all, she needed to return to her ship.
She could do nothing but obey. Her will was not her own.
Chapter 9
Moonlight streamed through the large band of windows in Durne’s quarters at the ship’s stern. The captain’s quarters. Captain Durne. He still wasn’t used to hearing that. Despite the brightness of the moon, he kept an oil lamp burning on his desk. A mountain of paperwork awaited his attention.
As much as captaincy had been his dream, it came with it a barrel-load of responsibility. The nasty business with the intruder and the attack on one of his crew made his job more difficult. The Wielder’s Prize was a trade ship, not a war ship, despite what Kahld had done to her. Durne had vowed things would be different with him as captain. Yet trouble still dogged them.
With a sip of rum swirling in his mouth, he closed his eyes to brood.
A knock came to his door. Before he could grant entry, it burst open, and in charged Marcelo. The bane of Durne’s existence.
“We need to leave Oakheart immediately.” The old man’s voice grated against Durne’s nerves.
He took another sip of his rum while the old man shifted from foot to foot. Let him wait. That all-too-familiar bone Marcelo chewed could grind the man’s teeth to nubs for all he cared.
“Did you hear me?”
“Aye.”
“This is urgent. The safety of this ship is at stake.”
With some regret, Durne set down his glass. “What exactly is the urgency? What is the threat?”
“Need I remind you about the attack on the ship’s official wielder? Isn’t that enough?”
Durne narrowed his eyes. It was a look that intimidated most hardened sailors, and he hoped it would do the same for the old man. “Earlier you cited Oakheart justice as the reason behind the attack. I am familiar with Oakheart justice. They wouldn’t attack. Instead they would send an official with signed papers stating authority to take Finn into custody to face local laws. They would not sink a trade ship in their waters. It’s bad for business.”
“What does it matter where the threat is coming from? A threat is a threat.”
Placing both sets of knuckles on the edge of his desk, Durne leaned forward and glared at the wielder. “If you are aware of any threat — great, small or otherwise — you must disclose the details to your captain.” Stopping an imminent argument, Durne charged on. “To make myself clear: Unless I, the captain of this ship, deem a potential danger as a threat, we will not be going anywhere before our scheduled departure the morning after next.”
Marcelo swept into the guest seat opposite the desk. He leaned forward and raised a hand as if he swore an oath. “The threat is real. You know it to be true, and you want to leave. Now.” The old man watched him with expectation, a faint glimmer of self-satisfaction playing behind his icy eyes.
“Did you just try to wield at me?”
The old man startled. “No,” he stuttered, lowering his hand. “I’d never do such a thing. I’m simply trying to stress the gravity of the situation. We can’t stay here.”
“Get out.”
Marcelo rose. “Someone boarded and attacked the Prize, and you want to hang around as if nothing happened. They’ll come again. They’ll steal aboard, and they’ll disable the ship, maybe even sink it. They could kill crew members. Yourself even.”
“Do you know who this army of attackers is? Do you know why they want the Prize at the bottom of this harbor? Or why Finn was the sole target? If you know anything, it’s your duty to tell me.”
Marcelo looked away.
“Would you set out on the next leg with only half the supplies needed for the journey? Would you abandon half the crew on shore?”
The old man turned back, his eyes bright in the lantern light. “Yes. Yes, I would.”
“And that’s why I’m captain. Now get out of my sight.”
After the old man left, Durne no longer had the taste for rum. He pulled out his charts and studied his drafted voyage to Auslam. He’d navigated the rough waters countless times for multiple captains. This was the first time he’d take the journey as captain. Every soul on board mattered. Even Marcelo’s.
He would not put his ship or crew in danger for anyone. If that meant he had to leave early, then he would.
* * *
Like a common criminal heading to the gallows, Jasmine pulled on her collar. Townsfolk jeered from every side as she and Aurelius followed the scholar through Oakheart. Sickness roiled every time she touched the leather and iron binding. She thought she might throw up. Of their own accord, her fingers let go, and the collar’s sickness passed. There was no way she could release herself from the binding. Weakness from her draining magic caused a different kind of sickness that clung to her limbs and wouldn’t let go. More than ever, she needed her ship.
She pulled on her collar again.
“It’s no use,” Aurelius muttered.
Sudden movement in the air caught Jasmine’s eye. She turned and got a face full of rotten tomato. If this was all the townsfolk had, then she considered herself lucky. She spat out the seeds and pulp and kept walking.
It wasn’t only anger and produce the crowd threw at them. There was also fear. And more. Their eyes were lit by the fires of self-righteousness. Justice was being done.
In front of her, the scholar graced the jostling crowd with nods and smiles. He raised his hand in blessing toward those who bowed to him. They bowed to him. Not all the townsfolk, but enough to make Jasmine wonder what the Guardians did for the town.
He walked with purposeful strides. His power was well contained. It moved around him like a faint halo glowing in the night. A faint projection of reassurance and trust. It was different to the power she’d seen on him earlier when she’d first spotted him. Earlier it had been a squall. Now, it was subtle. He
purposely wielded the projection of assurance and peace to make the townsfolk open to him, to trust him. The precision of his power was remarkable. Jasmine found herself wanting to study him, to learn everything from him, to take his power and make it her own.
An egg slammed into the side of her head and broke. The yoke and whites splashed against Aurelius’ shoulder. He cried out as if he’d been the one targeted.
The scholar turned. When his gaze locked onto the glistening egg mucus in Jasmine’s dark hair, he raised his hands to the crowd. “There’s no need for animosity,” he crooned, his power flowing over the crowd like sea mist.
Jasmine closed her eyes and turned away. She wanted to thank the person who’d thrown the egg. While not all consuming, her desire to take the scholar’s magic and make it her own had been a touch too close to Kahld’s need for power. This, it seemed, would be her curse. A war she couldn’t afford to lose. She was not Kahld. She would never be Kahld.
“These two will make a fine addition to Oakheart’s resources,” the scholar said. “If they remain undamaged.” He made a point of looking at each townsperson in the eye.
The mood in the crowd changed. The anger fell away as did the fear. Their attention returned to the two newly tagged wielders. There was longing in their eyes, and Jasmine couldn’t shake the feeling of being sized up. They wanted to own her and Aurelius.
This had happened before, she realized. The scholars sold captured wielders to the townsfolk. It made sense. They needed a way to sustain their status without having to resort to using their power. Every time they used their power, they risked being discovered for who they were: untagged wielders. That meant they needed something else to keep them loved and safe and beyond question by the townsfolk. It seemed they’d taken on the role of the town’s benefactors. They protected the folk from untagged wielders. And they sold the newly tagged ones to the townsfolk, probably at a cheap price, as a gesture of good will. That would explain why the town had so many slave wielders.
Leaving her ship had not been one of her better ideas. On a whim she had risked everything. She was finally a true member of the Prize’s crew only to lose it all to become a slave.
No, not a whim. She’d done it to save Finn when no one else was willing to do anything. Just because she hadn’t been successful didn’t mean it had been for nothing.
Yeah, people lied to themselves all the time.
She would get out of this somehow. And if she couldn’t, then she’d still find a way of making sure Finn was safe. So it wasn’t all for nothing.
When they reached two oaks flanking a path running up a forested hill, the scholar stopped, and like a circus ringmaster, he turned to the crowd and raised both hands. The gathered townsfolk grew quiet.
“Thank you for your help today,” he said. “These two will be tested. If they are deemed safe and worthy of joining the town, we will include them in our auction in three days’ time.” He studied Jasmine and Aurelius. “I’m sure they will fetch a fair price for the trouble they’ve caused. That’s all we can ask.” He stepped to one side and indicated the hill. An invitation to his prisoners. “This way.”
As directed, Aurelius and Jasmine led the way up the hill. The scholar and his collared guards followed behind. The townsfolk didn’t follow past the oaks. The area grew eerily quiet. Leafy trees bowed over them, masking the sky. A blanket hiding them, smothering them. Without being able to see the sky, Jasmine kept her gaze down, focusing on each step, desperately trying to come up with a plan to escape the inevitable path before her.
Aurelius sucked in his breath. He was staring ahead.
The trees had parted, and a large manor house came into view in the moonlight at the top of the hill. It was a two-story rambling affair with pitched roofs and long thin windows sheathed in glass stained many colors. The entry sported columns and a grand oak door far wider than any door needed to be. The place was a show of opulence in a town filled with squalor, hidden away from the eyes of the locals.
It seemed obvious to Jasmine the scholars had protected and nurtured the forest around the manor for the purpose of privacy. Probably smart, considering wielders congregated there. Untagged, free, and organized. With slave guards. Mighty dangerous. No local would allow it if they knew their secret.
“It’s so…” Aurelius gaped.
“Big?” Jasmine offered.
“Ostentatious.” He frowned. “So much for keeping a low profile.”
A low profile wasn’t what the scholars needed in a town full of suspicious folk. Too often importance and value were related to wealth, and that’s what the townsfolk would see when they ventured up the hill. A rich establishment full of hard-working educated folk. The scholar’s generosity toward the townsfolk simply sealed the deal.
“No talking,” the scholar said, his voice full of calm and reason.
Feeling the urge to rebel, Jasmine opened her mouth to say something, just for the sake of it, and found she couldn’t utter another word. She pulled on her collar and gave up.
The scholar took them through the main entrance. They stepped into a foyer that was so spacious it could’ve contained six or seven rooms alone. The wooden floors were polished to a high sheen and accented by plush rugs, thicker than the ones Kahld had kept in his quarters on the Prize. The wide, winding staircase with a filigreed banister led the eye to the sparkling chandelier flickering with twenty or thirty candles. Jasmine had never stood in such opulence. She felt diminished under the looming grace.
The scholar said something to his guardsmen. They bowed and went up a long hallway, disappearing into the back rooms.
“This way,” the scholar said and took them to a room on the left.
Jasmine had expected a short trip to a dark, dank dungeon. Instead she found herself in more opulence with a lit fireplace, plush lounges, an ornate desk and chair, and a huge red rug almost the size of the entire room. Every wall, except the one with the tall windows, was covered in books
“Shall we begin?” he asked, though it seemed doubtful he was asking permission. “Stand before me, boy, and let me get a good look at you.”
Aurelius obeyed in a hurry and stood in front of their captor, his back straight, his expression open. The perfect mouse in a trap.
The man laid his hands on Aurelius’ shoulders, closed his eyes, and wielded. The flow of power washed over the kid. It searched and hunted, and when its tendrils found his power, it tweaked and teased, pushed and pulled. Aurelius’ power reacted like a sluggish cat awakening from a long nap. It resisted the scholar’s power, flared and then settled. Apart from a vaguely suspicious look in his eye, Aurelius didn’t react.
The scholar released him. “Where were you awakened?”
The command to not speak lifted from Jasmine’s shoulders even though the question had been directed at the kid. She wondered how that worked.
“I am Aurelius and—”
“I didn’t ask your name. I asked where you were trained. The location.”
“Auslam.”
The scholar grunted. “You have more power than the average Oakheart slave. You’ll fetch a good price.” His gaze slid to Jasmine. “You’re next.”
When he rested his hands on Jasmine’s shoulders, she tried to hide her power. The collar wouldn’t allow it. The man’s power pushed on hers, and her magic, without her doing anything, retaliated like a whiplash. The scholar took a step back, eyes wide. He licked his lips.
“Impressive,” he murmured. “Somewhat strong, but unrefined.” He stared at her a while longer. “And you were awakened to your power, where?”
“At sea,” she said.
His gaze dropped to her bare feet, the breeches she wore, and loose shirt. The simple clothes of a sailor. The disappointment in his expression told her he wasn’t so impressed by what he saw.
“It’s a shame we didn’t find you ten years ago. We could’ve honed that power and harnessed it to our advantage.”
She wondered what he would’ve seen if he’d done his little test while she was at her strongest on her ship, or even if her temporary talismans had been full. Marcelo’s warning about her being a beacon with her magic returned like a slap. She’d been foolish in so many ways. If the Guardians discovered her true strength, and her lack of control over her power, they would silence her without hesitation. It was a good thing she was close to depletion.
“As it stands…” He pulled on his bottom lip then let go. “As it stands, I am unsure where to place you. It seems a terrible waste to return you as a slave to the unwashed populous of this filthy town. Stay here. The both of you. I must consult my colleagues.” With that, he swept from the room.
Jasmine rushed to check the door. It was closed but unlocked. How stupid were the scholars? She pushed on the door, only her muscles refused to work. The door didn’t budge. A wave of sickness coursed through her until she let go the handle. It seemed she could no sooner leave the room than she could spread her arms and fly.
“The more we try to escape, the less possible it becomes,” Aurelius said, having not even tried. He glanced around the room, at the high ceiling, the stained-glass windows, the woven rugs, and plush chairs.
Jasmine vowed, as soon as she got out of her collar, she was going to make them pay. Every last one of them.
Her shoulders slumped. She was lying again. All she wanted was to get back to her ship. As more time went by, that seemed less likely. Before she’d left for shore, Marcelo had been trying to convince Durne to leave Oakheart early.
What Marcelo wanted, Marcelo got.
Chapter 10
Aurelius walked the perimeter of their library prison. It seemed the books covering every shelf, from floor to ceiling, were more interesting than coming up with a plan to escape. He stopped when some book caught his eye. Like a lover, he ran a finger down its spine.
By the time he’d taken his seventh or eighth circuit around the room, Jasmine sank into one of the plush lounges. The cushions were too soft. Even when she sat on the lounge’s edge, the cushions seemed to want to swallow her whole. “What’s taking them so long?”